


Trust is for fools, and I’ve always been called stupid

by kitkat1003



Category: LEGO Monkie Kid
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, MK really be going through it, Self-Harm, author thinks about the line in episode 9 too much
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:16:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28081536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kitkat1003/pseuds/kitkat1003
Summary: The Calabash was...something.  Terrible, confusing, but for a moment...nice.It was easy to trust it, the kindness.  MK resolves never to do that again.  And then he trusts Macaque, because he’s stupid, and in the aftermath of DBK and the failure that was the skeleton key, MK doesn’t think he can trust anything at all.Least of all, himself.(or, “I just wanted to be good enough.  Like you.” and the consequences thereof)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 67





	Trust is for fools, and I’ve always been called stupid

**Author's Note:**

> Listen I just want more angst with MK that has hurt comfort at the end

MK knows, for a fact, that he’s not smart. He’s not a tactician. He doesn’t have the brains to strategize, not really. If anything, that’s Tang’s department, because Tang has so much knowledge in that brain. Even Pigsy could figure out a better plan than he could.

Which is fine. MK is find with leaning on others, so long as he pulls his weight twice as much so it’s equal. He’s the hero, he’s got to show them that even if he’s not smart, he’s at least dependable in any situation. The clones were a mess, and he realizes that he just has to get used to sleeping less.

And he does, too. Soon, he can go through live with six hours of sleep, 2 am to 8am every night after partying, and still kick it through the day. No one makes comments on the bags under his eyes, because he gets a little makeup to fix that, and he doesn’t let his smile falter.

So really, why would anyone ask? No need to worry, right?

Sometimes Pigsy looks at him a certain way, like he’s trying to decipher something. One those days, MK pumps up the energy to 11, to prove that he’s okay.

Somehow, that makes Pigsy’s frown deepen, instead of lightening it.

Then he messes up Mei’s thing at her house, and again at the race. Then the Calabash happens. Then he loses the skeleton key. Then he trusts Macaque, yells at Monkey King. Then he fights DBK again.

And at the end of it all, there’s still a lingering doubt that he’s done anything good. That he’s done enough.

So he helps out with the city reconstruction, on the weekends. Hangs out with Mei, trains with Monkey King, works at the noodle shop. paints with Sandy, talks with Tang. He balances it all out, and if he has 0 time for himself, that’s fine. Who needs alone time?

But then, one day, he’s training with Monkey King. He’s teaching him a few katas, because while MK is fantastic at twirling the staff around and blocking things from time to time, he still fumbles. Some katas will give him the muscle memory to be a bit crazy.

Some of them are stupid hard, though. There’s a lot of little steps involved, and MK is still getting into this whole focus business.

(It’s a stain on his pride, that that’s a lesson he still hasn’t exactly mastered. Monkey King always says that it’s fine, as long as he’s trying, but that’s worthless platitude and MK knows it.)

He’s been working through this one kata for like, an hour, and he can tell Monkey King is getting a little frustrated with him. He doesn’t say it, but MK knows. He can get annoying.

But then, he tries again, for what feels like the 1000th time, and when he’s done Monkey King cheers.

“YES! Oh, that-that was _perfect_ , kid!” Monkey King is smiling, and MK wants to be happy about it, but.

_**Perfect.** _

He said perfect.

And MK, he knows he isn’t in the Calabash, he broke it, but he doesn’t want to hear that word, because it reminds him of too much of what he wanted then, consistent praise, kindness from everyone, the knowledge that he wasn’t completely useless, because he _did it._ He saved everyone.

He wants that but he’ll never get it. Not yet anyway.

“Kid?” MK flinches at the sound, blinking away his thoughts. Monkey King has gone from smiling to pensive, if not concerned, arms crossed over his chest.

“I really did good?” MK puts on his trademark smile, and Monkey King softens.

“Heck yeah. I think that’s good enough for today, you got an easy ten katas under your belt. Practice them at home in the meanwhile, kay?” And MK wants to argue, because he needs to know more, faster, but he nods, waving a cheery goodbye and running off.

There’s a thrumming energy in him, that he needs to do something, anything, to let this out.

So he punches a wall, and the skin of his knuckles bleed.

He stares at it for a few moments, and realizes that the buzzing energy is gone. He can breathe.

He doesn’t bandage it until he gets home.

* * *

It becomes part of a routine. When he feels this...extra energy, all it takes is a little pain. And punching things will make him stronger, anyway, so it’s basically training. He really needs to catch up on that.

Mei invites him to a race, as a mark of goodwill considering the last time. He declines, and practices Katas for three hours until it’s party time after Mei’s obvious win.

His limbs feel like lead but he still parties till it’s past midnight. Sleeps for six hours. Goes to work.

Punches a wall.

Rinse and repeat.

Tang and Pigsy notice the bandages on his hands, wrapped around his fingers and knuckles. The first few days they say little, but Tang mentions it as MK busses tables.

“Just a new look,” he shrugs it off.

“A new look to look like you’re a street gang kid?” Pigsy barks from the kitchen, and MK shrugs.

He buys red gloves a day or so later, so they don’t see the bandages anymore. When they ask, he says he wanted the look to be more authentic.

They stop asking questions. Mission accomplished.

* * *

He messes up eventually. He keeps screwing up at meditation, either twitching too much or practically falling asleep. He’s practically thrown out of the training grounds by a reasonably annoyed and disappointed Monkey King.

And, to top it off, he scheduled his training day on the wrong day off, so now he apparently missed a shift at work. Pigsy shouts at him, threatens to fire him, and MK doesn’t even have the energy to try panickily apologize.

So he just takes it.

“Sorry, Pigsy,” He manages, and heads up to his room, missing the look of surprise and concern that flashes on Pigsy’s face.

What a mess. Stupid, he’s so stupid!

He slams his fist into his head, and then blinks in surprise, because the pain felt good. It scrambled his thoughts, brought him back into focus.

He at least, this time, doesn’t have to make an excuse about covering his temples. He’s already got his headband.

* * *

Things go back to normal, with MK’s shitty sleep schedule and shittier habits, and he’s so, so proud when no one notices, but also almost betrayed? Do they not care enough to notice? Are they just not looking anymore?

When he goes through the town he keeps his eyes peeled. He has enemies, like spiders and Macaque and DBK and Red Son and Princess Iron Fan, Yin and Jin and a million others. You can’t trust anyone, and you’re not safe. He knows this, makes sure he remembers it, because when you forget that _that’s_ when you get hurt, or someone you care for gets hurt.

It all comes to a head when he’s coming to the noodle shop after a long day of training, figuring a nice bowl of noodles and soup will be the perfect energy boost to get him through the rest of the day, but when he gets back the lights are off.

Now that he thinks about it, Monkey King let him out a little early, didn’t he?

He’s on edge as he walks through the door, and then the lights flick on.

“SURPRISE!”

And MK, he doesn’t see his four friends and mentor, he sees an attack. This is out of the ordinary, this isn’t normal, Pigsy doesn’t close shop early, Monkey King doesn’t let him out of training early.

He screams, and the staff is in his hand, and the end of it shoots outward, stretching towards one of the figures.

Pigsy ducks, and the staff embeds itself in the wall.

MK blinks. Stares. Doesn’t breathe because he’s shaking.

“MK?” Mei starts, but then.

“WHAT THE _HELL_ KID?!” Pigsy shouts, and MK drops the staff and runs.

When he leaves, Monkey King picks up his staff, making it vanish. He sits, cross-legged on his cloud, and crosses his arms over his chest.

“We’re going after him, right?”

“ _Obviously!_ ” Pigsy growls out, and they go.

* * *

Realistically, MK knows he shouldn’t be terrified of his friends.

But they’re all stronger and better than him, and Monkey King was there too, and he messed up and perfectly good thing because he wasn’t good enough, because he freaked out over nothing, and now everyone is mad at him.

He stops in an alley, pounding his fists against his head.

“Stupid,” He mutters. “Stupid, _stupid_!” Harder, and harder, he needs to get this feeling out. Doesn’t matter if it hurts. Harder, and _harder_ , biting his lip so hard it bleeds, curled up in an alley.

He hears a voice, muffled, from far away.

“Found him! MK, it’s-what are you _doing?!_ ” Mei almost screams, and that gets Pigsy, Sandy, Tang, and Monkey King there faster than she expected. MK doesn’t hear her, he keeps muttering to himself, keeps slamming his fists into his head.

Monkey King grabs his wrists, right before another swing, and MK freezes, blinking tiredly. His head hurts. His gloves have spikes on them, for the aesthetic, and he feels something wet trailing down the side of his face.

“Kid?” Monkey King tries, and MK knows he needs to reply, but the world’s getting fuzzy. 

“ _Kid!_ ”

He passes out.

* * *

He wakes up on a cloud, and for a moment is pretty sure he’s dead.

“Not quite,” Someone calls, and oh, he must have said that aloud.

He sits up, and he’s in the noodle shop, on Monkey King’s cloud.

Said Monkey King is standing next to him, a frown on his face, and MK wants to vanish.

“M-Monkey King, I-,” he raises a hand, and realizes his gloves are missing, as is his headband. They’ve been replaced with bandages.

“You nearly gave yourself a concussion, you idiot,” Pigsy comes from the back, holding a bowl of noodles. He practically shoves it into MK’s arms, and MK fumbles with it, before he steadies. He takes the chopsticks, and stares down at the bowl.

“Don’t spill any. This cloud doesn’t dry clean,” Monkey King jokes, and MK nods, shakily, and eats. He doesn’t say anything, and everyone just watches. It’s unnerving.

The bowl is taken out of his hands, and Tang takes it to the sink, before MK can even think to move to get up.

“...am I in trouble?” He asks, shoulders hiking up to his ears, and Pigsy sighs. Monkey King shrugs.

“Kind of,” Is the reply he gets from his mentor, and MK deflates.

“MK, why the hell were you hitting yourself hard enough to make you bleed,” It’s not phrased as a question, and MK flinches.

“It’s just-it helps me,” Pigsy raises a brow at that, and MK lets the words fall out of his mouth, rapid fire. “I just-I got to be good, right? I have to to good work, and be better, and get better, and sometimes I get stressed out but then I just-I hit something and I can focus,” He glances over to Monkey King. “Focus is important right? I’m just doing that, you know?”

Monkey King looks a bit a lost, and a lot concerned.

“Kid-,” MK interrupts his mentor and doesn’t have the focus to even be nervous about it.

“I shouldn’t have started hitting my head, that was stupid-,” for a moment, one of his hands reaches up in a muscle memory of motion, but Monkey King grabs him by the wrist and pulls his arm back down. “I can just go back to hitting other stuff, yknow? To keep me on track. And I’ll do better, promise,” He glances between his friends, but instead of making them feel better, they only look more concerned.

“Better at what? You do plenty?” Mei tilts her head to the side, confused.

“Maybe...,” MK shrugs it off.

“What is even your schedule like?” Tang asks. “If you’re this concerned about messing it up?”

“I work here from nine to six, then I eat, practice katas, and then hang out with Mei or paint with Sandy or hang out with Tang. Party until one, sleep at two, wake up at eight. I train with Monkey King on days I’m off, and I look to see who needs help on the weekends,” He prattles it off proudly, but Monkey King’s eyes narrow.

“And when do you relax?” He asks, and MK tilts his head to the side at the question.

“When I’m asleep?”

“MK, I thought you’d learned to not overwork yourself after the clones thing,” Tang pipes up, and MK blinks.

“But I’m not using clones. I got better instead,” Pigsy groans.

“Kid, you’re a candle burning at both ends. No wonder you’re about to fall apart.” Pigsy rubs at his temples in frustration, and MK stares.

“But-but I have to! I got to-I got to do something! And I’m good at this, I can do this! I have to!”

“Why?” 

Mei’s question stops him short, and MK doesn’t know how to explain.

“You can trust us, you know. We can pick up the slack,” Tang calls, from his place at the noodle bar. MK snorts.

“You can’t trust anyone, and you’re not safe,” he mumbles. Monkey King’s ear twitches.

“The hell did you learn that from?” His mentor turns to him, and MK shrugs.

“Jin and Yin. The Calabash. The Skeleton key. Macaque,” He clenches his fists. That buzzing feeling is back, and it’s hard to breathe. He doesn’t know how to focus, he doesn’t 

“Fuck, kid, you were in the _Calabash?_ That’s a nightmare, no wonder you’re messed up. Why didn’t you say something?” Monkey places a hand on top of one of MK’s fists.

“Wasn’t important. I’m okay.”

“You’re not,” Pigsy barks.

“I’m okay enough.”

“You shouldn’t have to be!”

“But I’m the hero!” MK shouts, jumping off of the cloud and looming over Pigsy, in a rare moment where his height advantage means something. “ _I_ have to keep the world safe, _I_ have to stop the bad guys, _I_ have to be better!”

“You have time,” Monkey King tries, and MK whirls on him.

“No, I _don’t,_ because you waited until the last second to have anything to _do_ with me!”

The shout isn’t mean to come out like that, but Monkey King flinches like he’s been hit, and MK curls in on himself. He’s not bitter, he’s not, it’s just...frustrating. That he has to train and fight bad guys who have thousands of years on him. He can’t ever catch up, but he’s trying. Isn’t that enough?

“Kid-,” Monkey King reaches out, and MK turns away.

“No-I’m sorry-that isn’t fair,” he lifts his hands up. “Stupid-”

Pigsy grabs one arm and Monkey King the other, and MK is frozen, fists raised towards his head.

MK sniffles. And then he sobs.

He drops to his knees on the floor, crying because it’s so much and he was handling it even when it hurt and now everyone knows how pathetic and weak he is.

“It’s _so hard!_ ” He cries. “I was just trying to be better!”

Pigsy pulls him close, and hugs.

“Kid, you’re doing fine. Better than fine. You got to deal with a lot of shit, and it’s hard, but you’re doing a good job. But you don’t have to do this all. You can take breaks,” MK doesn’t think he remember Pigsy ever speaking this soft.

“I thought there were no breaks in the war against the enemy,” He mumbles, and Pigsy snorts.

“I can make an exception, but only this time,” MK chuckles. Pigsy lets go, and MK wipes his eyes, standing.

He turns to Monkey King.

“Listen, kid,” Monkey King looks worlds of uncomfortable. “MK,” he amends. “I didn’t know how bad this would get. Couldn’t teach you with the staff until you got it. And, uh, I figured experience learning would work, since that was how it was with me. Mostly,” He shrugs, and MK just stares. “But I’m sorry you had to deal with all that. You’re my student. I should protect you more, when you’re still learning.”

“It’s okay,” MK says, automatic. Monkey King’s eyes soften with something undiscernible.

“Sure, kid,” He mutters, and MK wonders who is blaming who at this point.

“Okay,” Mei pipes up. “Are we gonna celebrate MK’s birthday or what?”

MK blinks.

“It’s my birthday?”

“You forgot?!”

“I was busy!’

They’re laughing, and Pigsy heads into the kitchen. Something about a cake.

* * *

MK is barred from working the next day, as well as training and partying. He’s only to do something that is for him, not for anyone else.

So he draws, all day, little sketches. Drawings of him, of Pigsy, of Sandy, of Mei, of Tang, of Monkey King.

A new routine.

He works from 9 to 6, 3 days a week. Trains two days a week. Has weekends off, to do whatever he wants. Mei calls him to party, and always asks what he did the day before extending her invitation. Same with Sandy and Tang.

He wonders if they’re conspiring against him. For him? Whatever.

Pigsy checks his hands and temples every day for two months. It’s embarrassing, especially when MK messes up and hits himself, or something, again.

Mei is a good distraction. She takes him to his favorite places, reminding him of the things he forgot. How to have fun. How to relax.

Monkey King is very...gentle isn’t the right word. But protective? Perhaps. MK stumbles during a kata and he’s getting his legs checked out by a suspicious monkey.

He thinks Monkey King is embarrassed that he couldn’t tell MK was hurt. That must be it.

Eventually, the bruises fade. His knuckles have a few scars, but he throws away the gloves regardless.

“You’re getting better,” Monkey King tells him one day, when he swings the staff, willing it to stretch out to hit the dummy twenty feet away.

MK smiles.

He’s getting better.


End file.
